What makes a Marriage
by HappyBeingInsane
Summary: Okay, so I've decided to do this 'moments' series after all. I can't promise it'll be updated all that regularly - you know, life gets in the way - but I'll try and update within two weeks of posting the previous chapter at least, so stick with me! I'm just going with the flow right now, so I don't know how long it'll be, but as long as there is demand (for now anyway) I'll write.
1. Argument

**Part One**

'I don't know Guinevere – maybe because I'm the King?' Angrily, Arthur tore off his gloves, throwing them down on the table with a loud smack before turning to face her again.

'Well there are limits, you know!' Gwen returned hotly, her eyes burning up at him. 'You can't keep doing this, Arthur! You tell me you think only of your people, but what will become of them without their sovereign?'

Arthur took a deep breath, forcing down the tide of anger rising inside of him. For God's sake, why had he married someone so damn good at arguing back?

'And what of my people if I don't go?' he said, trying to calm his tone, 'They will be left vulnerable – '

'More vulnerable than if they no longer had a King?'

Arthur gritted his teeth in an attempt to quell the words of frustration that threatened to pour from his lips. Needless to say, he did not succeed.

'They expect their King to defend them, Guinevere! They expect to see courage and leadership, neither of which they will see if I stay here! I don't have a choice. I must go, and I will not be persuaded otherwise.'

Gwen made a small noise in the back of her throat – a mixture of anger and exasperation - and Arthur glared at her.

'So this is all about your pride now?'' she shot back fiercely. ''Believe it or not, Arthur, there are things in this world that are more important than a man's reputation – his life, for one!''

''This has nothing to do with my pride! You're just jumping to conclusions because you can't understand what this is like for me'' Arthur snapped, his eyes the colour of ash and flint in his ire. ''Now, if you will excuse me – ''

''You think I don't understand this?'' The interruption was quiet and coldly civil, her tone one of dangerous calm.

''I – '' Arthur made to speak, but somehow could not find the words he wanted.

''I understand every time, Arthur Pendragon. Every single time.'' She fixed him with a hard stare, as if daring him to contradict her. He stayed silent.

''Not just because I want to, but because I have to. Countless times I have watched you ride out without saying a word, countless times I have said goodbye to you, not knowing if I will ever see you again. Countless times I have lain awake in a cold bed, wondering if I will ever feel you lie beside me again. Wondering if you are even still alive. Have you any idea what _that_ is like?''

He opened his mouth to snap back at her with a smart retort, but closed it again when he caught the expression on her face, the sharp words dying on his lips.

''Well it hurts, Arthur. It hurts beyond imagining, and this time is one too far.'' She paused and suddenly, in that one moment of respite, her hard demeanour slipped. Arthur, watching her guardedly, was horrified to see tears sparkling in her eyes.

_He had made her cry! _Instantly he hated himself for it.

''Guinevere…'' he began, remorseful, but she cut him off.

''I just can't do this right now.'' Her voice was quiet. ''I'm going for a walk. I'll see you later.''

''Guinevere – '' he tried again, but she was already sweeping past him and out of the doors.

**Part Two**

Two hours later and Arthur was beside himself with worry. When Gwen hadn't come back within the hour, he had gone looking for her – first in Gaius' chambers, then in the lower town, and after that in the meadow where he knew she loved to walk. He had even gone to her old house to see if she had gone there, but she was nowhere to be found.

By now he was ready to send out a squad of guards to find her, but Merlin (who had found him moping by the edge of the training grounds) managed to persuade him otherwise.

"Why don't you go back to your chambers?" He asked, puzzled. "She might've gone back there."

"But what if she hasn't, Merlin?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do I have to think of everything?"

"Well you won't know until you go, will you?" The servant pointed out in exasperation. "Look, just go and see. She's been gone two hours and you've been gone one – she could easily be back there by now."

Arthur scowled, knowing his friend was right but as usual, not wanting to admit it.

"Fine. But if she's not –"

"She will be."

Arthur frowned at him. "How can you be so sure?" He asked, puzzled by his confidence.

Merlin shrugged. "I just…have a feeling, that's all."

Having no other choice (it was either that or continuing to mill miserably around the grounds), Arthur grudgingly decided to trust Merlin's 'funny feeling', and bidding goodbye to his friend, he headed back towards the castle.

**Part Three**

Walking the corridors seemed strangely lonely without Guinevere. Each step reminded him why she wasn't beside him – how arrogant, how stubborn he had been earlier. For the thousandth time he cursed his pig-headedness.

_And he had made her cry!_ A wave of shame washed over him and he flinched at the memory. He was such an idiot! A complete clotpole, as Merlin would say. And this time he _definitely_ deserved such censure.

Lost in mentally beating himself up, Arthur hardly noticed the rest of the walk slip by – that is, until he was stood in front of their chamber doors. For a moment he stopped, suddenly inexplicably nervous. This mess had all been his fault in the first place. Would she even see him? _I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't want to, _he thought miserably - _I gave her every reason to be angry at me._

There was only one way to find out, however. Steeling himself, he walked forward and pushed open the door.

**Part Four**

He saw her as soon as he stepped inside. She was curled up on the bed, facing away from the door, and if she heard him come in she made no indication of it. Arthur stopped short.

For a moment he stayed still, pulling nervously at his gloves before finally removing them. Laying them on the edge of the table (with considerably more care than he had earlier), he began to walk slowly towards the bed.

"Guinevere?" He asked tentatively, hesitating in the stone archways that led to their bedchamber.

When she didn't reply he took an uncertain step forward.

"I just –''He began, then trailed off, unsure of what to say. For a moment he stood there awkwardly, twisting his wedding ring around his finger before taking a deep breath and starting again.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, Guinevere." He told her, his voice wavering slightly. "I was stupid and – and arrogant, and I shouldn't have shouted like that."

He took another step forward, tentatively sitting down on the bed beside her before reaching out a gentle hand and placing it on her shoulder. She flinched a little but didn't recoil, and he shifted slightly closer.

"I hate myself for making you cry, and – "

"Don't." Gwen interrupted, sitting up suddenly and turning to face him. Her eyes were red rimmed, her dress crumpled.

Arthur looked puzzled. "Don't what?"

"Don't you dare ever say that you hate yourself, Arthur Pendragon." She said fiercely, the sudden strength in her voice surprising him. "Don't you_ dare!"_

"I'm…sorry?" Arthur tried uncertainly, but Gwen shook her head.

"No," She said, her eyes filling with fresh tears, "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have shouted either, Arthur - it didn't help anything - and I shouldn't have gotten so _angry_ at you for being –"

"So stubborn?" Arthur interjected quietly. Gwen's uncomfortable silence confirmed he had guessed correctly.

"Guinevere, I know I can be a complete clotpole some of the time. I'm arrogant and insensitive – spoiled, too, as Merlin often points out to me – and you deserve so much better. But I love you more than anything else in the world, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you deserve because of it."

"You don't need to." Gwen whispered, suddenly not trusting her voice to hold. "You're more than I deserve, Arthur – especially because you try to be that man. You care enough to recognise your faults and try to fix them. That's more than I could ever hope to deserve."

A tear escaped now, slipping down her cheek and dripping onto the rumpled fabric of her dress – but this time, Arthur was not going to let it fall unchecked. Reaching for her, he wrapped his arms around her small frame and pulled her close.

"I hate fighting with you." He whispered, burying his face in her hair as he tightened his embrace around her. She smiled tearfully into his neck.

"I hate fighting with you too. I'm sorry, Arthur."

"I'm sorrier, Guinevere. I'm to blame for this, but I promise you - "He paused to pull back slightly, lifting a gentle hand to her cheek and brushing away her tears, "– that I will never be such a selfish prat again."

Gwen gave a watery giggle. "You're not selfish."

"But I am a prat?"

"No!" Her laugh was stronger now. "You just need to temper your desire for adventure, that's all. Being a King comes with responsibilities, Arthur – you cannot go gallivanting off on every mission like you used to."

Arthur sighed. "I know. I should have listened to you earlier, I just -" He paused, struggling for the words to explain how he felt.

"The crown can be very heavy sometimes."

"I know that." Gwen nodded. "But you are beloved, Arthur – not just by me, but by all the people of this land. You are fair and just and true, and they look to you for guidance. You must know that they would be lost without you."

"Just like I would be lost without you, my Guinevere."

Gwen smiled. "I am not sure that you could ever be lost because of me." She said softly, dropping her eyes briefly away from his gaze before looking back up at him. But she knew that she was wrong, and she knew that the look in his eyes was reflected in her own, telling him the same: that they were, and would always be, each other's everything.


	2. Winter Nights

It was the worst snowstorm that Camelot had seen in nearly 20 years. All day snow had fallen, and outside it was still tumbling thick and fast through the dark night. It piled up on windowsills and drifted against walls, blanketing the kingdom in a muffled silence that resonated with the frozen tang of winter.

Inside their chambers, Arthur and Gwen were snuggled together in front of the fire. Despite the fact they were the King and Queen, they had enjoyed the snow as much as anyone – especially as the last time they'd seen proper snowfall was when they were children. Now, however, they were exhausted – deliciously tired out from an afternoon spent avoiding Gwaine and his snowballs.

Cuddled together under layers of blankets with the winter wind howling outside, neither saw the need ever to move again. Unfortunately, though, life had other plans.

"The fire's dwindling." Gwen observed sleepily from her spot next to her husband, shifting her tired head where it was resting on his shoulder. "I'll put some more logs on it."

She made to move – pushing off the heavy furs that were draped around her - but Arthur's hand caught her arm in gentle protest before she could get up.

"I'll do it." He said quietly, kissing the top of her head and standing, tucking the furs back around her shoulders before making his way over to the wood basket. Gwen smiled.

"Thankyou."

A drowsy silence settled over the room as Arthur knelt down by the fire, only broken by the occasional crackling sound as he stirred it with the poker. Neither felt the need to fill it – it was enough knowing the other was there. Instead they let it envelop them, warm and comfortable. The kind of silence that meant home.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier." Arthur said finally, glancing briefly over his shoulder at her before turning back to stoking the fire.

"About having a communal wood store for the lower town - I think you're right. We need to show the people that we're there for them all the time, not just in times of trouble."

He tossed another log on the fire, sitting back on his heels as he watched it spit sparks into the air.

"Besides," he added after a moment, smiling into the flames, "you, better than anyone know what they really need."

The crackling of the flames was all that greeted his comment. _That's odd_, Arthur thought, puzzled and a little worried by the lack of response. She'd been so passionate about her plan that he knew she would be delighted to know that he agreed with her (Gwaine had ambushed them before he could tell her earlier) – so why wasn't she answering?

"Guinevere?"

He turned around, wondering if she was alright, but as soon as his eyes fell on her he had his answer.

A slow smile spread over his face.

Gwen was fast asleep, curled up in the bundle of furs that he had wrapped her in. Her hands were tucked under her chin, lost in his shirtsleeves, and by the light of the fire, her skin glowed golden against the red linen. She looked so cute cocooned in blankets that in seconds, Arthur found himself grinning like an idiot at the sight of her.

All thoughts of logs forgotten, he rose slowly, padding over to where she lay and crouching down beside her. Carefully he pulled back the furs, pausing to gaze at her for a few moments before scooping her into his arms. She stirred a little as he lifted her, but did not wake as he carried her over to the bed and set her gently down upon it.

_Lucky she's already wearing my shirt. I don't want to disturb her._ He thought, easing his hand out from where it had been cradling her head. Another smile split his face as he stopped again to gaze down at her.

_It suits her much better than me anyway. I always thought it would. At least, I always _hoped_ it would. I've wanted this ever since I first kissed her, and now -_

He reached out a hand as if to stroke her cheek - to make sure that she was really there and not part of some wistful, frustrating dream – but he dropped it at the last minute. Instead, he leaned over and pulled up the covers, tucking her in so she wouldn't get cold.

"Goodnight Guinevere." He whispered, kissing her forehead. "I love you."


	3. Of Bathtubs and Bedrooms

"Why is it you aren't washing yourself again?" Gwen asked teasingly, peering round at her husband's face as she rubbed a soapy cloth down his chest. "Too lazy, wasn't it?"

"No." Arthur grinned, leaning his head back against her shoulder so he could look up at her. Settled happily between her thighs, he was warm and contented, lying cradled against her in a pool of hot water. "I just don't see why I should do it when my wife seems perfectly content to do so."

"Too arrogant as well, it appears." She added cheekily, flicking the cloth playfully against his cheek. "Remind me why I'm still doing this for you?"

"I don't know, I'm afraid." He smiled, amused by her teasing. "Maybe because you know I'll make it up to you _very pleasurably_ later?"

"Is that a promise, husband?"

Arthur grinned. "I think you know it is, Guinevere. And do you know something?"

"What's that, my King?"

There was a pause before he answered, and as he turned to face her, she saw that impish spark that she knew all too well light in his eyes.

"I intend to follow it through right _now_."


	4. A Pendragon Morning

"Arthur?" Gwen's voice - laced with sleep - broke through his thoughts, and he looked up from his papers to see her standing beside the desk.

"What are you doing up before me?"

Arthur chuckled. "Believe me, I'm as puzzled by it as you are, love." He said, setting down his quill and leaning back in his chair - the parchment he had been reading still in his other hand. "I don't know what's come over me."

"Maybe you're finally learning to appreciate mornings." Gwen joked as she climbed onto his lap. He wrapped his arm securely around her waist, and she rested her cheek lightly against his hair.

"What is it you're reading?"

Arthur sighed, handing her the document so she could see for herself.

"Just a report on the tax revenue from last autumn's harvest." He told her, his fingers idly stroking her arm through the sleeve of the shirt that she was wearing.

"I shouldn't be looking at it so early in the morning, only I thought I might as well get something useful done whilst you were asleep."

Gwen smiled at this, leaning forward a little so she could place the parchment back on the desk.

"It's not that early, Arthur." She teased gently. "Anyone would think you weren't a morning person."

"I am when you're awake." Arthur chuckled, and Gwen raised her eyes amusedly at such a statement.

"Really?"

"Really." He assured her, giving her an affectionate squeeze before adding as a cheeky afterthought:

"Especially when you're naked and on top of me."

"_Arthur!"_

"Or beneath me – either is perfectly pleasurable." He continued, grinning impishly up at her and Gwen giggled in spite of herself.

"I think it's too early for you to know what you're saying." She laughed, kissing his forehead before settling back down. Arthur instinctively tightened his embrace around her, tucking his head against the curve of her neck as she shifted against him.

For a few moments they were both quiet.

Around them, the stillness of the room hummed drowsily in the lazy beams of sunlight – their chambers like an oasis at the centre of the already buzzing castle. Silence took up her sceptre and began her brief reign.

Through the dancing threads of dust time seemed to slow.

_ If only every morning could be like this_, Arthur thought longingly, his fingers absently caressing Gwen's waist as he held her. Sometimes they were so rushed that they barely saw each other before they left for the numerous meetings, appointments and ceremonies that seemed to fill their days. Mornings like this were few and far between – at least, in his opinion. Four non – rushed mornings in a week was _far _too few a number to be spending together. He would have infinitely preferred it to be seven.

In his arms, Gwen gave a little sigh of contentment, and Arthur was transported back to the present. Pulling away slightly, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger there for slightly longer than was necessary. Or, for that matter, than was chaste.

"I love you so much." He murmured, his fingers idly tracing small circles on her bare thigh. Long and tapered, they moved higher, toying lightly with the hem of his shirt that she was wearing, and Gwen smiled.

"I love you too." She said quietly, nestling yet closer as Arthur moved his hand to rest on the curve of her waist.

"More than anything."

There was short pause, and then:

"Even when I'm being a complete prat?"

Gwen giggled. "Even when you're being a complete _clotpole_." She told him, kissing him sweetly by way of answer.

"Now, are you going to take me back to bed, or would you prefer to read about taxes until Merlin brings the breakfast?"


	5. Toast

"I just can't believe that you have never toasted bread before."

"It's not a crime, Guinevere." Arthur smiled, trying to hide his amusement at her obvious incredulity. "You've never fought in a tournament before either."

"That's different – you know I have never had the chance to do that." She said, looking at him reprovingly before adding saucily: "You would never let me anywhere near the arena if I tried."

Arthur chuckled. "You know me too well, my love." He smiled, wrapping his free arm (the one that wasn't holding the toasting fork) around her shoulders. Gwen leaned her head against his own, cuddling close to him in front of the fire. This type of evening was her favourite kind– one spent relaxing together, taking things at their own pace rather than that dictated by the kingdom. It was almost like they were a normal couple instead of a royal one.

"Er, Guinevere?"

Arthur's voice interrupted her sleepy musings, and she turned her head a little to kiss his collarbone by way of reply.

"What exactly are we doing with this bread?"

"Oh!" Gwen gave a small exclamation of surprise, lifting her head quickly from his shoulder. "I forgot all about it!"

"Kind of hard to forget, when the fork's still in your hand." Arthur teased, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Or was it my intoxicating proximity that threw you off guard?"

Gwen rolled her eyes amusedly at his arrogance. "Don't flatter yourself, husband." She smiled, leaning forwards and turning her fork so that the bread would be browned evenly all over. Arthur did the same.

"Am I doing it right?" He asked, just to be sure. He had no idea how many ways there were to cook this 'toast' stuff, but if he could do it wrong, he would. Cooking, as they both knew, was not his strong point.

Gwen grinned across at him. "You're definitely making a better start than you did on that chicken." She teased. "I don't remember you even getting to the cooking part there."

Arthur chuckled, finally able to relieve the memory without complete embarrassment. "Don't mock me, wife."

Gwen shook her head, smiling. "It's the truth and you know it." She said smugly, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek before turning her attention back to the toast. For a moment she studied it carefully, then:

"It's done!" She announced, pulling her fork out of the fire with an unnecessary flourish that made Arthur chuckle. He did the same (albeit without the flourish) - following her cue. After all, she was apparently the expert on making this 'toast'.

"So what do I do with it now?" Arthur asked, frowning at the slice of bread at the end of his fork. Having poked at it a couple of times, he was now observing it rather curiously - as if he expected it to do something interesting. "It doesn't look very appetising."

Gwen laughed. "You butter it, of course."

"Like normal bread?"

"It _is_ normal bread, Arthur – just a little crisped up around the edges." She explained patiently, biting back a smile. This was proving to be a lot more amusing than she'd expected.

Arthur looked doubtful. "Normal bread isn't crispy." He pointed out, examining the toasted slice again, and Gwen rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.

"It's delicious, Arthur, I promise. Try it and see."

Arthur still looked rather sceptical, but nevertheless, he took the bread off the fork, scraped some butter onto his knife and began to spread it on the slice.

"Elyan and I always used to make toast in the winters when we were little." Gwen told him as he worked. "We were only allowed to when it was very cold; that was the only time Dad would agree to have a fire in the house. Mum would cut us each a thick slice of bread and give us a toasting fork, then me and Elyan would go and jostle each other for the best space by the fire."

Arthur paused, looking sideways at her. "I would've liked to have seen that." He said, smiling. "Small Guinevere with her flyaway curls, pushing her brother and toasting bread over the fire."

"I'm sure my life would have seemed very boring to a prince of the realm."

"Not this Prince." Arthur leaned over and kissed her quickly. "Or King, now. I have never found your life either boring or easy, my love. You have always had to be a much stronger person than I."

Gwen blushed – that beautiful, dusky pink that Arthur loved. "I think that's probably over exaggerating a little." She said quietly. "Or a lot, maybe."

Arthur shook his head. "Not even a tiny bit." Reaching down, he tilted her chin up so that her eyes (which she had dropped out of embarrassment at his praise) met his.

"You never cease to surprise me, Guinevere. With anything. Especially this new 'toast' thing, or whatever it's called."

Gwen giggled. "It _is _called toast, and it isn't exactly new, my love."

"Well it's new to me, _wife_, and now it's getting cold, so -." He paused, suddenly frowning. "Actually, what _do_ I do with it when it gets cold?"

"We commoners generally eat it, but you nobles seem to wave it around like a flag all the time." She teased, and Arthur held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright! You've got me - I'll try it."

"Promise?" She flashed him an impish grin.

"Promise."

Screwing up his face in an unnecessary grimace, Arthur lifted the slice to his lips and took a tentative bite. Beside him, Gwen bit her lip – trying to hold in her laughter at the fuss her husband was making over a piece of toast. Despite the fact he was the King of Camelot and a grown man, he could be such a baby sometimes.

"Guinevere." He had finished chewing, and was now holding what remained of the slice with a contemplative look on his face.

"Mmmhmm?"

"I like it."


End file.
